Augustine in His Own Words
Body-Soul Relationship
In Augustine's day, most intellectuals—and this includes most Christian ones—thought of the soul in corporeal terms: that the soul was a sort of highly refined "stuff." Neoplatonism revolutionized Augustine's view. He came to think of both God and the soul as utterly incorporeal. Roland Teske has argued that this idea is one of Augustine's two seminal contributions to Western metaphysical thought.54 In the following passage, Augustine explores the relationship between the immaterial soul and the material body. Augustine saw the soul as a sort of lightning-fast intelligent life-force enlivening the body. From On the Immortality of the Soul:
(16.25) In the natural order, more powerful beings hand down to lower ones the form they have received from the Supreme Beauty. And surely, what they give, they do not take away. Lower things, insofar as they exist, exist for the very reason that more powerful beings hand down to them the form by which they exist. These greater ones are, by reason of their power, more excellent. To these natures it is given that they have greater power. . . . The soul is more powerful and excellent than the body. Therefore, since the body subsists by the soul, . . . the soul itself can in no way be transformed into a body. . . . But the soul is present at the same time wholly, entirely, not only in the entire mass of the body, but also in each of its individual parts. For it is the entire soul that feels pain in any part of the body, yet it does not feel it in the entire body. For when there is an ache in the foot, the eyes take a look at it, the mouth talks about it, and the hand reaches for it. This, of course, would be impossible if whatever of the soul that was in these parts did not also experience a sensation in the foot; if the soul were not present, it would be unable to feel what has happened there. For it would be incredible for a messenger to announce a fact he had not experienced. The sensation of pain that occurs does not run through the mass of the body by continuing in such a way as not to remain unnoticed by other parts of the soul which are elsewhere. Rather, the entire soul feels what is going on in a particular part of the foot and feels it only there where it occurs. Therefore, the entire soul is present at one and the same time in individual parts of the body, and it experiences sensation as a whole, at one and the same time, in the individual parts.55
54. Roland Teske, "Augustine as Philosopher: The Birth of Christian Metaphysics," Augustinian Studies 23 (1992): 7–32; reprinted in To Know God and the Soul: Essays on the Thought of Saint Augustine (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 2008), 3–25.
55. De immortalitate animae 16.25 (BA 5:216–18); my trans., based on Schopp, FOTC 4:45–47. See Rist, Augustine, 92–104; Teske, "Soul," AugEncy, 807–12.
The Philosopher 67
A Philosophy of Language
Augustine composed On the Teacher around 389, while he, his son, and his friends were living together as "servants of God" on his family property in Thagaste. Augustine alluded to this dialogue in Confessions (see Chapter 1, above). The following is the dialogue's opening and touches on a nest of Augustinian concerns: the purpose of language; the nature of memory; signs vs. realities; inner self vs. outer world; the function of prayer. From On the Teacher:
(1.1) Augustine. What would you say we are trying to do when we speak? Adeodatus. It occurs to me that we want either to teach or to learn. Aug. I see. I agree with the first of these. But how does this hold true for learning?
Ad. How in the world do you suppose that we can learn anything except by asking questions?
Aug. I hold that even in that case we simply want to teach somebody something. Now I would like you to explore whether you might ask a question for some reason other than teaching the person you asked what you want to know.
Ad. What you say is right. Aug. So you see that our aim in speaking is simply to teach. Ad. I don't see that clearly. If speaking is nothing more than uttering words, we do that, as I see it, whenever we sing. And we often sing when we're alone, when no one else is present. I don't think we're trying to teach anything by singing.
Aug. I think there is a form of teaching—a really important one—that involves reminding people of something. This will become clear as we discuss this topic. But if you don't think that we learn by remembering or that when we teach we bring up something to one's mind, I will not debate it with you [right now]. Now I will take the position that there are two reasons for speaking: either to teach something or to remind others—or ourselves—of something. And we do this even when we are singing. Wouldn't you agree?
Ad. Not entirely, for I very rarely sing to remind myself of something. I do it only for pleasure.
Aug. I see what you mean. But you notice, don't you, that what pleases you in singing is a certain melodious ordering of sound? Since melody can be added to the words or removed from them, isn't singing one thing and speaking something else? Flutes and harps make melodies. Birds, too, can sing. And there are times when we hum a musical piece without words. Humming can be called singing, but not speech. Do you disagree?
Ad. No, not really.
(1.2) Aug. Do you think then that the language was established for any reason other than these two, either teaching or reminding?
Ad. I would agree, were it not for the difficulty that, when we pray, we use words. And yet it is not right to believe that God is actually being taught anything by us or that we remind Him of something.
Aug. You don't realize, I think, that the command to pray in the secrecy of our "bedroom"—a term that means "the inner recesses of the mind"—was given only for this reason: that God does not need to be reminded or to be taught by us in order to give us what we desire. When one speaks, one gives an outward sign of what one wants through some articulated sound. But we must seek and pray to God in a secret place within the rational soul—what is called the "inner person." This [inner person] He wants to be His temple. Haven't you read in the Apostle: "Do you not know that you are the temple of God and that the Spirit of God dwells in you" (1 Cor 3:16) and that "Christ dwells in the inner person" (Eph 3:17)? And haven't you noticed what is in the Prophet: "Speak in your hearts, and repent on your beds: Sacrifice the sacrifice of justice, and hope in the Lord" (Ps 4:5–6)? Where do you think the "sacrifice of justice" is to be sacrificed, if not in the "temple" of the mind and on the "beds" of the heart? Where sacrifice is offered, that is where prayer is made. That is why, when we pray, there is no need for speech, that is, for the sounding-out of words, except perhaps as priests do, using words as signs to express one's thoughts, not so that God may hear, but that people may hear and, by this verbal reminder, fix their thoughts upon God. But do you have another view?
Ad. No, I agree completely. Aug. Aren't you concerned, therefore, by the fact that the greatest Teacher of all taught us certain words to say when He taught His disciples how to pray so that He seemed to do nothing else but teach them what they should say when praying?
Ad. That does not bother me at all, for He did not simply teach the disciples words but taught realities using words. In this way they were reminded to whom to pray and for what to pray when, as you said, they pray in the inner recesses of the mind.
Aug. You have the right idea. I believe you notice at the same time that even when someone is trying hard to think, although we utter no sound, yet because we are thinking in words themselves, we are speaking inwardly in our minds. So, too, by speaking, we simply call something to mind since, in turning over the words stored there, memory brings to mind the realities themselves which have words as their signs.
Ad. I understand, and I follow you. (2.3) Aug. So we agree then that words are signs? Ad. We do.